


Ghosts of Past

by Thisisarealtagwhy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, He'll get one too, Hugs, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jack's trying, Nightmares, Sam needs a damn hug, Season/Series 13, The Cage, implied/referenced PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 19:21:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14432403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thisisarealtagwhy/pseuds/Thisisarealtagwhy
Summary: Sam twists in his sleep, a pained expression upon his face and whispers one of the few names he recognises, “Lucifer… stop.”Jack moves closer because any mention of his father is worth further investigation, "Sam?" he tentatively places a hand on his friend's shoulder and jolts as gold rushes through his veins, connecting the two.





	Ghosts of Past

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetad, i didn't want to bother my beta with something outside of their fandom. I really love Jack and Sam, they're so cute!! Anyways, i dunno what episode this would be set in so... who knows! Pre episode 6??

Sam twists in his sleep, nails digging into his palms until they draw blood. His face is pained, crinkled up like those chips Dean likes so much, there isn’t a whole lot of noise but occasionally he would gasp or whimper a little.

Jack doesn’t like it, it’s weird to see Sam so... vulnerable, usually the hunter is much more invincible, steadier. He hadn’t meant to creep on the only one nice to him inside the bunker but he could feel the pain radiating from his soul, it permeated the air of the esoteric bunker, except, he was the only one to notice it. Dean in all of his violent and overprotective tendencies didn’t notice the _pain_ his brother was in.

Sam twists again and whispers one of the few names he recognises, “Lucifer… stop.” the sheets are almost shredded in his desperate attempts to alleviate some of the pain he must be under.

But that name, it snaps him out of his almost daze and brings him closer to the hunter, any mention of his father is worth further investigation. Even from an unconscious… friend? He is unsure of the wording of Samuel Winchester and his relationship, friend is the only fitting one, but he is too unclean to be considered a true friend.

He reaches the edge of the bed and reaches a tentative hand out, when Sam doesn’t move for a few seconds, Jack puts his hand on Sam’s tensed arm and flinches as gold rushes through their veins, connecting the two, if only for a moment.

The calm, safe feeling of the bedroom disappears and suddenly it’s all melting away into an ugly, spacious, cavernous space surrounded by bars and fire. Jack can only guess that this is what hell must look like.

“Sam!” He calls out, stepping further into the deceiving end of the cage.

There, the hunter lays beaten and bloody, missing bits and pieces while… his father stands over him, smiling and laughing maniacally.

“Alrightio Sammy, let’s hear you scream.” And Lucifer claps his hands, flames spring out of nowhere, engulfing the giant steadily. Sam fights the urge to scream but gives way when the flames lick his face.

“Stop it!” Jack’s seen enough – he can feel the memories of hell pressing on him and it’s too much, he doesn’t understand how Sam is _alive_ – and raises a hand, for what purpose? He is unsure but Sam’s head snaps to him, eyes barely focusing.

“Jack?” Sam asks incredulously, despite the severe wounds on his body.

“I… am sorry, I did not mean to intrude your mind but, stay away.” Jack warns, speaking to the archangel hovering over his friend. He moves closer to the pair, hand still outstretched towards the man known as his father. 

As if conjured with smoke, the Lucifer gives one last lecherous grin and disperses into the thick, heavy air. “I did not know it was my father to torture you down here.” And now all he thinks is, how can Sam bear to look at him with all the suffering his father has caused him?

“Jack? How did you…?” Sam asks, standing stiffly, the scenery changing rapidly, like a blurred picture until it settles on a park where he can hear dogs barking and children playing. 

He hesitates, “I saw you having a nightmare, I wanted to help but ended up… here.” 

Sam’s lips turn downwards and suddenly the link is broken and he jolts back to reality, snapping his hand close to his body as the hunter leaps forward. Sam rubs a tired hand over his face. 

“Sam…”

“How much did you see?” Sam asks, in the same tired tone. 

“All of it.” He now understands why sometimes after a long day Sam will dig his thumb into his palm, why sometimes when the smell of burning meat invades the bunker, Sam will hide away, why he is the strongest person he knows when by every right he should be the weakest. But most of all he knows why Dean hates him so much, because he is the son of the one to torture Sam for millennia.

At his one-word sentence, Sam’s eyes tightly screw shut, he sighs heavily, “I’m sorry you had to see all that.”

Wait, he was apologising for him accidentally intruding on his thoughts? Instead of voicing those thoughts he asks quietly, “Why don’t you hate me?”

Sam chuckles softly, “Why would I?”

“Because I’m _his_ son.” Somehow, it felt like saying his name would summon him.

“It doesn’t matter that you’re his son, you and Lucifer, you’re completely different, and as you know, it’s coming from a well-sourced opinion.” Sam huffs with one of those self-deprecating noises he makes when he’s thinking of something bad.

He thinks he saw somewhere that hugs are supposed to make people happy so without much more thought he leans forward and awkwardly wraps his arms around the man. Sam stiffens up for a moment before returning the hug, long arms encircling him, “Thank you, Jack.”

He doesn’t reply, happy to soak in the warmth, the rush of affection coursing through him.

 


End file.
